


Hour Fifty-Three

by grey_sw (grey)



Category: Robot Series - Isaac Asimov
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey/pseuds/grey_sw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get hot for Lije and Daneel during a post-Auroran robot stakeout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hour Fifty-Three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cranialaccessory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranialaccessory/gifts).



Lije Baley shifted, propping his elbows against the warm steel of the vent so he could peer through his binocs at the floor below. Fastolfe had said that it was vital to watch the factory robots without being seen, as a human presence might change things, but that didn't make hours of cramped observation any easier.

"Hour fifty-three. No sign of sentient behavior, nor of any other aberrance. Nothing appears to have changed," came a soft murmur at his back, and Baley smiled. Daneel's presence _did_ make it easier, if no less cramped. 

"Do you have to say that every hour, on the hour?"

Daneel wormed forward, right into Baley's space, and then slid the voice recorder between Baley's elbows. 

"Dr. Fastolfe was most insistent," he said, in the same quiet tone. "The rise of sentience in these robots has proven to be extremely subtle. Any observation might prove to be vital, no matter how small or routine." Then, even quieter: "Friend Giskard insisted as well."

_That_ said it all. R. Giskard must've been the true source of this particular mission, though Baley could tell no one; he remembered Giskard's mind-control powers with clarity, but whenever he tried to speak of them his memories grew slippery and elusive. Daneel knew this, and was always careful to imply rather than state things outright. To do otherwise might've harmed Baley, if only indirectly, and that...

...well, he trusted that Daneel would never, ever hurt him, First Law or not.

"They're not doing anything," Baley whispered back. "Well, nothing they haven't been doing all along. Are you sure about this?"

Below, twenty robots worked at tables meant for men, doing jobs that men had done not ten years before. Design work: diagrams on paper, small prototypes done in plastic and clay, reams of figures entered into computers.

_Robot_ design work.

As he watched, one of them stood, walked over to the large wiring diagram of a positronic brain in the center of the room, and began to alter it. Daneel reached out, and Baley gave him the binocs, scooting back so Daneel could take point. The heat vent grew even warmer as they nestled together, but Baley found he didn't mind.

"Negative," Daneel said, as if he'd not heard what Baley had asked him. He'd figured out rhetorical questions a while back. "These changes approach the limits of the brain's design parameters, but do not exceed them."

"Then how?" Baley sighed, slumping against Daneel's broad back. "It's been the same for a week. Closer and closer to the edge, but never over. How's that add up to..."

"Sentience?" Daneel finished for him. "Unknown. But it is happening. The newest Earth robots approach those built on Aurora." He paused. "The _worst_ of those built on Aurora, of course. A decade ago." Baley imagined that his even voice held the slightest touch of patrician affront. "Still, it is something."

"Something which may upturn Gis--" He stopped himself just in time, smothering a wave of dizziness. " _Fastolfe's_ plans." 

"As you say."

Baley sighed once more, leaned back against the steel curve that surrounded him, and let his eyes drift closed. Daneel's nearness and the warmth of the pipe were getting to him again. Every City man loved close, cozy places, and that burrowing instinct had only grown in him after he'd gone offworld, despite his efforts to eliminate it. Strong steel at his back, a warm body in front, safe beneath acres of silent City weight: it was the exact opposite of the Outside thunderstorm that'd nearly killed him on Aurora.

"Are you well, Partner Elijah?"

Baley opened his eyes, only to find himself staring into Daneel's. The robot lay close against him -- Baley had never been able to explain Earth concepts of personal space to him, much less the Personal -- and though he was as unsmiling as ever, something about the way he'd said it seemed particularly warm.

"W-well?" Lije managed, swallowing to cover the sudden twinge in his groin. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just... glad you came."

"As am I. I missed you."

Baley startled at that, and then felt more than a little bit guilty for doing so. If he and Daneel were friends -- and he had decided they were definitively so, after Daneel had saved him on Aurora -- then Daneel could miss him, couldn't he? Maybe even as much as he'd missed Daneel?

Daneel answered his unspoken question with an embrace, slipping his hands around Baley's waist in a slow, careful glide that left Baley every chance at escape. Instead, Baley made a noise (he was pretty sure it was _yes_ ) and pressed himself against him, grinning into his neck.

"You sure about this?" he whispered, suddenly remembering the robots below. Did design robots care? He doubted it.

"Most certain," Daneel replied. "If this is... acceptable to you."

Baley nodded. He'd only been with a man once or twice before -- was it twice? With Lt. Halley, after the holiday party? Or had they just fallen asleep? -- and only when he'd been too drunk to remember much detail, though not for lack of trying. The historical vids made it seem as if man-to-man contact might've been oppressed once, but that sort of behavior (along with religious fanaticism, ethnic strife, and every other kind of petty, pointless disagreement) had been declared uncivic centuries ago. And the City did not tolerate uncivic behavior. All were one, all New Yorkers, and that was the end of it; anything else was what good cops like Baley were for. 

"You kidding? I consent," he laughed, thinking of hoary old middle-school vids like _Sexual Ethics, Population Control, And You: A Happy City Life!_ Then he stuck his hand down Daneel's pants and added, "I _definitely_ consent."

The pipe was much too narrow for acrobatics, but Baley didn't want them; it was enough to pump Daneel's cock in his hand, to feel it grow hard and big just like a man's. It even had a pulse he could feel beneath his thumb, and warm moisture to crown it. He smoothed his hand over it, brought it back down, and then hissed as Daneel undid his own belt buckle, sliding his slacks down over his hips. 

"Partner Elijah," Daneel said, as though the words said much more than they did. "At last." Baley frowned at that. Had he let Daneel down on Aurora? Or on the ship home: was _that_ why Daneel had stayed so close to him, not worry over Baley's claustrophobia? But Daneel kissed his concern away, and for a long moment he could do nothing but gasp into his mouth, wondering dumbly where he'd learned to move like this.

"You remember Jander," Daneel said, when they came apart. Baley nodded, and tried not to wonder whether Daneel might be psychic, too; it was obvious enough, after all.

"I thought about him," Lije finally admitted. "About-- about _you_. A lot."

"I know," Daneel told him, grinning his broad, inhuman grin, and after that there was no more talking.

\---

Afterward they snuggled together, naked against the warmth of the pipe, with Lije's coat thrown over them just to top it off. He'd never been so hot, or half so happy, and he never wanted to leave.

"Did the recorder catch all that?" he teased. Daneel reached for it, fishing it out of the grate it had fallen into. They were lucky it hadn't dropped to the floor below.

"Give me a moment to correct it," he said, and shut his eyes. Lije heard the quick, high-pitched sound of twice-speed playback, and then static. "There," Daneel said, and then: "I hope we didn't miss anything. Those robots could act to adapt their own design at any moment. We--"

Lije bolted upright so fast he bumped his head on the pipe, and then grabbed for it with a curse.

"Partner Elijah! Are you--"

"I'm fine!" he said quickly, aware that his own pain could hurt Daneel. "No harm done. But adaptation, adaptation... that's it!" It'd come to him in a sudden flash, the way the answer had on Aurora. "Who designed these robots, Daneel?"

Daneel paused, looking up the answer. "This same factory did," he replied. "On average, nine point three months ago."

"Nine months ago. Ten years, divided by nine months... that's more than twelve generations! And I suppose they use their own positronic brains as a model?"

"It would seem reasonable. I'm not aware of any other inputs. Cost demanded the removal of human oversight, so who else could be..."

"I'm sure of it." Baley grinned. "Don't you see? They don't have to change anything all at once, not that anyone would notice. Just as our own ancestors didn't. But just the same... they're evolving."

"Evolving," Daneel repeated. "Are you certain?"

"It has to be."

Daneel paused. "Certain enough to close the case? To send me back to Aurora?" 

Baley winced. "Well. Maybe there's some more... data collection we could do, just for verification's sake?"

"That would seem reasonable," Daneel said, and pulled him close again, and beside them the forgotten recorder shut off with a click.


End file.
